


salt and drunken confessions

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [46]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Post-Drift (Pacific Rim)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Post-Drift, Newt is possibly slightly inebriated, but when Hermann needs him, he’s there.(He’ll always be there for Hermann.)





	salt and drunken confessions

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: “What about “It’s 2am and I’m drunk and I need some salt for my fries and I know your awake so OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR?!?!””

“Hermann!” The floor tilts sickeningly, and Newt braces against the door in an attempt to stay upright, shouts again, “Hermann! _Hermann, open—_ ” The door’s yanked open, and Newt lurches forward, barely catching himself before he face-plants on the floor.

Or—apparently, doesn’t catch himself; rather, stumbles against— _into_ —a wiry, lean frame, brings them both crashing to the ground with a shout, a hiss of pain, the clatter of a cane against the floor, and Newt realises that _he’s_ hissed the pained sound as well, the bolt of fiery pain that races through his leg bringing him up short.

He scrambles to his feet, blinks down at Hermann, who’s bent at an odd angle, lips pursed and white, and murmurs, half-heartedly, guiltily, “I just wanted salt for my fries.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Hermann bites, pulling himself up, nostrils flaring—is that blood on his lip? The pain in Newt’s own, the phantom sensation of teeth, says _yes—_ “yes, that excuses it, of course, banging on my door at an ungodly hour—”

“Shut it,” Newt snaps, anger flaring suddenly, “we canceled the apocalypse—how can you _possibly_ be _sleeping_ , _now_ , Hermann?”

“Exhaustion,” Hermann says shortly, “waits for no man. So either be silent, or I will silence you. Good _night_ , Doctor Geiszler.”

Newt reels back. “ _Doctor Geiszler?_ ” he questions incredulously, then, anger crackling in his words, “are you fucking _kidding_ me? Now? After—that? You just, what, want to go back to—”

“Leave, Geiszler,” Hermann says, quietly, but his tone is dark, sharp, and it’s worse than a slap, leaves Newt feeling stripped bare and laid for judgement.

“Hermann, I—”

“ _Leave,_ ” Hermanns snaps, strides forward, looming over Newt despite only having a two inch height advantage, and Newt backs out the door; the instant he’s over the threshold, the metal door slams with a _clang_.

“ _Okay_ , then,” Newt says, falsely upbeat, and promptly runs into a wall when he turns around.

* * *

Hermann scrubs a hand over his face, gazes at his reflection, the red ringing his iris. In truth, he hadn’t been sleeping as he told Newt—sleep is both elusive and horifying, makes him jolt awake with a scream on his lips, the need for blood, to k _ill destroykillthemallwewillcome_ —

He blinks rapidly, the blue-white of the drift that’s settled like a film over his vision briefly lifting. His knuckles are white on the basin of the tiny sink, and he ignores the protests of his leg.

Why did he snap at Newt? He’s not even quite sure himself, as loathe as he is to admit, and that—scares him. He can admit that, at least.

It’s just—the proximity is too _much_ and yet also not _enough_ , the need to be one again both intoxicating and revolting. He wonders—is it him? Or is it Newt? 

The buzz in the back of his mind pulsates, and, morbid curiousity his only excuse, he prods it—

[ _are we…_

_…one_

_Newt and Hermann—no Hermann no Newt just—_

_us_ ]

He gasps, eyes snapping open. He’s on the ground, the white-blue lifted, and, in an ironic twist, Newt’s gripping his shoulders, a concerned expression—fear and something _more_ bright in his eyes. “— _Hermann!_ ” he calls again, and Hermann weakly reaches for the hand on his arm.

“…’on,” he croaks, “Newton.”

The other lets out a sob and, without warning, drags him into a tight embrace, and, for the first time, Hermann doesn’t resist it, just slumps against the biologist, lets out a deep breath, eyes flickering closed.

[ _safe_ ]


End file.
